


Thorki Human AU Collection

by curds_and_wheyface



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Human AU, M/M, Mafia AU, Strangers, adopted brothers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6187936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curds_and_wheyface/pseuds/curds_and_wheyface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorki one-shots I've written.</p><p>1. So Far Away (explicit)<br/>Runaway Loki works in a tattoo studio in England. Thor is searching for him.<br/>2. 100 Points (PG, meet-cute)<br/>Thor works in the tourist district. He hates hen parties...usually.<br/>3. In Spite of Everything (explicit)<br/>Mafia AU. Loki is meeting the son of Odin to make an exchange.<br/>4. Moody Nudes<br/>Loki's into photography, but he can't get his brother to model for him.<br/>5. The Rest We'll Just Wait and See<br/>New Years Eve, new step-siblings, and a game of spin the bottle.<br/>6. Be Still, Wild and Young<br/>Between his parents and four year old Balder, Thor struggles to get some alone-time at the family cottage with his boyfriend Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Far Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [umakoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/gifts).



“Come home.”

That familiar bossy tone, but for once Loki doesn’t mind.

It’s been three years, give or take a few days, and it seems like nothing has changed between them in spite of it all. He’d expected it to take longer, finding him. He hadn’t known, had no way of knowing, that Thor was just one town over with nothing but an old photograph and his unfaltering hope. Somebody had pointed him in the right direction and then there he was.

Loki had looked up as the jingling bell broke through the low buzz of numerous tattoo guns, his heart had leapt up into his throat, pen clattering to rest between the open pages of the appointment book.

Thor’s mouth had opened around Loki’s name without sound, as if he’d been rendered breathless, and the pair of them had stood in stunned silence. Gathering his senses, Loki had instinctively tugged his sleeve down to the cover the newest of his tattoos, as if worried that Thor would disapprove.

“Alright, mate,” Callum had said, sitting back from the customer he was working on. “You after some ink?”

Thor had shaken himself from his daze, eyes slipping from Loki to Callum. When he spoke his voice was lilted with the familiar Scandinavian accent that Loki had learnt to mask. “Yes. I’m not quite sure…what to get.”

Loki had sucked in a deep breath, waves of anxiety and nostalgia hitting him all at once. It had taken every øre he had to get to England, by bus and then ferry, and he hadn’t expected to be found. Not until Thor had exhausted his search of Northern Europe.

“Okay,” Callum had said, nodding to the welcome desk. “Well, Loki here will help you.”

Then he’d gone back to his work, turning his back to the door while he concentrated on the portrait tattoo on his customer’s shoulder. Again the low buzz took over the shop, and when Loki had turned back to Thor he jumped a little, surprised to find that he’d approached the desk.

“This is nice,” he’d said, and though he was clearly trying to sound genuine there was an unmistakable undercurrent of anger in his tone. Not that Loki could really blame him; he’d left their home in the dead of night with nothing but a backpack and all of his savings. Plus most of Thor’s.

Still, he couldn’t help showering his reply with his own brand of passive aggression. “I like it here. They accept me for who I am.”

Thor’s eyes had widened, likely shocked by the drastic change in his way of speaking. Loki had always been good with accents, and although it had taken great effort not to let his natural voice slip through it had been worth it to avoid the awkward questions.

“Loki,” Thor had replied, face pinched in pain and frustration. “How can you say that? We accepted you. Mother and I-”

“Yes,” Loki spat, shifting his eyes across the room to make sure none of the others were watching. “Mother and you. But father? He didn’t accept me, and no matter how many times you said it I knew he never would.”

Younger than Thor by two years, he’d been less able to hide the truth about himself, about his sexuality, and he’d felt for some time that Odin’s treatment of them had been different. Thor had always called him paranoid, called it ‘adopted child syndrome’ but Loki had known it wasn’t paranoia. Odin had long given up on trying to tempt him towards sport, had stopped hiding his eye rolls and tuts whenever Loki would express interest in art or fashion.

He was stunned, then, when Thor let out a humourless laugh.“You’re wrong, Loki.”

The last thing Loki wanted was an argument, not in his workplace and not the moment they’d been reunited, but Thor’s unwavering respect for their father had been part of what made him leave. For the sake of looking professional he grabbed one of the sample books and flipped to a random page, muttering, “You always think better of him than he deserves.”

He span the book so that Thor would see the drawings, pointing indiscriminately, but Thor wasn’t looking at the book.

“A month after you left I told him that I’m gay,” he said bluntly, and Loki realised suddenly that they’d both slipped back into their native language some sentences ago. “It took him a little while but he accepted me, and he’d have accepted you too.”

Shock and something like jealousy had bloomed in Loki’s chest, the thought that he might’ve been so wrong, might’ve missed so much, mixed with the ugly suspicion that Odin had only been so accepting because it was his golden boy, his blue-eyed biological son. He hadn’t meant to say it, and yet he’d known he was going to, leaning close and hissing, “And would he be so accepting if he knew how you’d fucked your little brother, Thor? Hm?”

Thor’s eyes had widened, his face seeming to lose all colour in a matter of seconds, and it had been a good job that they were speaking in their own tongue because Loki had realised that both tattoo guns had gone silent and four pairs of eyes had been on them.

“Everything okay?” Callum had said, raising a brow. “Lokes?”

It was stupid, but Loki had felt the tips of his ears get hot. Back home, Thor and Loki had always laughed when anybody tried to shorten his name, whether it was Lokes or Lo, always scoffed at how stupid it sounded, but for some reason Loki hadn’t fought the nickname here. Because it made him feel separate from Thor, perhaps.

Brian, the other tattoo artist, had been looking at Loki as if he’d sprouted a second head. “You speak…German?”

It was laughable how wrong he was, but Thor didn’t seem amused at all when he gritted out, “ _Norwegian_.”

He’d turned back to Loki, hands planted on the desk and lips turned down at the corners.

“I want to see you,” he said in English, his tone brooking no argument. “Today, tonight, whenever you finish work. I won’t take no for an answer. Where are you living?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Loki shook his head. “Where are you staying? I’ll meet you.”

And it was clear that Thor didn’t trust him, but there was little he could do with Loki’s colleagues there ready to back him up. It hurt, the lack of trust, but it was to be expected. There had been a televised campaign to find him, viral videos of Thor and his parents begging him to come home, and Loki had kept himself hidden all the same.

“I will be there at eight,” Loki said as Thor handed over the address of his accommodation; a cheap chain hotel near to the airport.

Thor had nodded, looking around the room at the others. “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

His eyes had lingered on Loki as he walked along the front of the shop, his expression so grim and sad that Loki felt guilty.

Brian had cleared his throat. “That your boyfriend?”

And Loki hadn’t wanted the questions that any other answer would bring, and maybe also he kind of liked the way it sounded, and so he’d said, “Something like that.”

-

The bar of the hotel is typically inoffensive, decorated plainly with high stools at the bar and booths around the edges. Loki had wanted to sit at the bar but he’d let Thor talk him into a more private seat and now they’re in the corner, each with a whisky and a drawn expression.

“Come home.”

Loki shakes his head, again. “If that’s why you’re here then I’m sorry, but you’ll be going home disappointed. I’ve made a life for myself here, I’m-”

“In that shop?” Thor interrupts, gripping his tumbler so hard his knuckles go white. “With those men who don’t even know where you’re from?”

And Loki can’t bring himself to say that he did it on purpose, that he hid himself behind a different voice and a different history to keep Thor’s trail cold.

“Or do you-” Thor tries to carry on, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. “Is there somebody…a relationship?”

Part of Loki wants to say yes, just to see how it would look on Thor’s face, but there isn’t anyone else. There hasn’t ever been anyone else. If he tries hard enough he can still imagine with clarity the warm press of Thor’s body against his own, the taste of his tongue. Those are things he wouldn’t allow himself to forget.

He shakes his head, and Thor’s shoulders sag a little in relief. It’s a mutual feeling, confirming for Loki that Thor hasn’t found anyone else either.

Loki had been fourteen the first time they’d kissed and Thor had been devastated by it, but only at first. They hadn’t kissed again for almost a year but there had been plenty of hand-holding, footsie beneath the breakfast table and silly, teenaged flirting whenever they were alone. The night before Loki’s fifteenth birthday Thor had accosted him in their shared bedroom with a card, and once Loki had finished reading it he’d found himself pressed down into his mattress and kissed to within an inch of his life.

After that it hadn’t taken long for things to grow sexual, and right after Thor’s eighteenth, just before Loki was sixteen, they’d had the house to themselves for the first time in months. Thor had pressed inside of him with uncharacteristic patience and restraint, amidst whispered confessions of love and tears. It was a memory Loki had treasured as fiercely as he’d run from it.

“I looked everywhere for you,” Thor breathes. “Mamma feared you were dead.”

Loki feels bad about that, imagines how the worry might have aged her. His intention had never been to hurt any of them, not even Odin, only to find his way to somewhere he could be true to himself; somewhere he could maybe one day find a love less taboo, even if he was sure no love would ever be as strong.

“Well now you get to tell her that I’m fine.”

“Loki, please, come-” Thor tries, and it’s clear that he’s about to ask him again to return home. Loki can’t bear to hear his pleas.

“Stop asking me to come home. I have a home here. I catsit for the couple next door, they’re gone practically every weekend, I couldn’t leave little Marie even if I wanted to.”

Thor swallows. “Come up to my room then?” he says instead, and the request takes Loki by surprise. Thor’s hand slips across to his own. “Just tonight. And if you still want me to leave without you in the morning then I will.”

-

They take the lift up with some other guests and after pushing the button for his floor Thor surprises Loki again by coming to slip an arm around his waist. The other occupants of the lift glance over before averting their eyes, embarrassed by the small display of affection.

Loki shifts closer, tells himself it’s just because he likes the way the others shift around, unsure where to put their eyes. Thor squeezes at his hip, all casual, like they’re boyfriends.

At the door Thor swipes the keycard like an old pro and it hits Loki that for three years now Thor’s life has been this; living hotel to hotel, town to town, searching endlessly for the brother - no, _lover_ \- he lost in the night.

The room is neatly bare, Thor’s big hold-all in the corner with the lid open and clothes strewn around inside. Loki wonders if he ever bothers to unpack.

He would ask, but Thor is pressed up against his back, head tilted so that his beard scrapes Loki’s neck as he leans in to kiss behind his ear. The skin of his arms tingles with goosebumps and he lifts his shoulders in defence, feels Thor pull away - but only to rid himself of his jacket.

There are surprisingly few words.

For all his stoicism, Thor had proven to be a talker during sex, full of encouragements and compliments and demands, all so filthy it had thrilled Loki to hear them tripping off such a polite boy’s tongue.

Now he steps into Loki’s space and says nothing, leans in slowly to nudge his nose against Loki’s cheek, to kiss gently at the corner of his mouth.

He hasn’t changed his cologne, and tipping his head into the kiss Loki breathes in airy citrus followed by the muted, lingering scent of _green_ ; moss and wood with undertones of spice. Loki wants to lean into the warmth of his neck and breathe him in, wants to drown in him.

He goes without argument when his chin is tugged, angled so that their mouths meet, and he parts his lips without encouragement. He lets his tongue slide along the plumpness of Thor’s bottom lip, revels in the hitch of breath it causes, and then Thor’s large hand is cupping the back of his head and holding him still to be kissed, not playfully but with purpose.

It’s so heated, the slip-slide of warring tongues and the hot aftertaste of expensive whisky, but something twists deep and ugly in Loki’s stomach at the _finesse_ of it. He twists his fingers in Thor’s shirt, thinks for a moment about pushing him away, demanding to know where and with whom he perfected his once-boyish kiss.

Thor doesn’t give him the chance, pulling away to breathe hotly against his cheek while he reaches down one-handed to work at the fastenings of their trousers - first Loki’s and then his own. With his eyes pinched closed Loki focuses on the rattle of belt buckles and the burr of zips, the rustle of fabric against fabric as Thor tugs his own cock free, reaches back to palm hotly at the meat of Loki’s arse through his now-loose jeans.

They’re both breathing heavily, both shaking, and Loki has to open his eyes and glance around the hotel room to ground himself - to fully convince himself that they’re not back at home in their bedroom.

There are no doubts that Thor has missed him, has searched for him in every spare moment, and it’s guilt and relief both that have him sinking to the ground without argument when Thor tugs him in that direction. He lifts his hips when Thor’s fingers hook in the waistband of his jeans and underwear to yank them down, kicks them the rest of the way while Thor stands to rid himself of his own.

Their shirts go next, and it’s so natural and normal to be naked in front of Thor that the only place he tries to cover is the dip of his hip, the little black Norse symbol for ‘Thor’ etched into his skin.

Dropping to his knees Thor pulls his hand away, fingers trembling as he takes it in. Loki averts his eyes, swallows, and lets his arms drop to his sides when Thor clambers over him.

“ _You little_ -” he growls through grit teeth and, though there’s unmistakable anger in it, when Loki looks back his brother’s face is pinched like he might cry.

He can’t bear it, and so he rolls onto his front, pulls his knees beneath himself until he can feel Thor’s thighs against his arse. If Thor is unhappy about it he chooses not to say, doesn’t want to push his luck perhaps.

There are more tattoos there, personal to him - a howling wolf tucked neatly into the curve of his shoulder blade, an Icelandic compass curving around his ribs to signify, in some loose way,  the home of his biological parents - but none so personal as the name of his lover.

Loki presses his cheek to the carpet, tries not to think too hard about the last time it was properly vacuumed.

“Tilt your hips up for me,” Thor murmurs, and Loki’s sure it’s not an accident that his fingers brush the vicinity of the tattoo as he angles Loki better to take his cock.

The bedside table wobbles as Thor pulls roughly at the drawer and paws around inside. He slams it shut again, the sound followed by the snick of a bottle cap, and then Loki jumps as cool, slick fingers circle his hole.

It’s been some time since he was touched by another person, used only to his own fingers and the hard silicone of the one toy he’s ever had the guts to buy, and his eyes almost roll back into his skull with how good it feels. Thor works him open bit by bit, one finger at first fucking steadily in an out, nice but not enough, and just before Loki can get impatient there’s a second finger sliding in beside it.

He mewls a little, reaches out to grab the wooden foot of the bed, and Thor shuffles impossibly closer. By the time Thor’s filled him with three fingers he’s got his forehead pressed to the floor, barely cares that he’s breathing in fibres from the carpet, so focused on the stretch and pull of his brother’s touch.

He mouths the word please over and over but doesn’t allow himself to actually say it, wonders if Thor can hear the whispered popping sound of his lips forming the word.

Thor doesn’t ask if he’s clean and there’s no condom, just the bare, blunt head of his cock nudging roughly at Loki for permission. He parts his knees more, the only affirmative he’ll offer, and squeezes his eyes closed as Thor begins to press inside.

The head of his cock is hot and fat, taking it is harder than Loki remembers, he has to suck in a sharp breath and bear down, and his gasp is matched by Thor’s as he’s able to push beyond the stubborn muscle. Their laboured breaths are the only sound, and though the silence is unfamiliar Loki is grateful for it, sure he couldn’t stand it if Thor felt the need to fill the empty air with words.

He feels every inch, inhales every time Thor pulls back in anticipation of the thrust that is sure to follow, and Thor doesn’t disappoint. He stills only once Loki is full of him, takes a moment to breathe before he begins to move, and Loki’s head spins with how much it feels like _home_ , akin to sinking into the comfort of your own bed after weeks away.

Except that it’s been years, three whole years since Loki felt this and suddenly he has no idea how he survived without it.

There’s a moment to adjust, Thor’s fingertips slipping down to grasp at his hips, and then he’s drawing back, pulling almost completely out before pressing back inside in one long, smooth thrust. Loki shifts forwards on the ground from the steady force of it and Thor uses his strong grip to pull him back, keep him in place while he works them into a rhythm.

It still hurts just enough, just how Loki remembers, enough that he’ll feel it long after they’re done. He wants Thor to mark him, to leave bruises shaped like fingertips and teeth, for Loki to look at in the mirror and rub at beneath his clothes, like secret graffiti on his skin. Each roll of Thor’s hips shifts Loki’s knees and already he anticipates the friction burns with a kind of glee.

The rhythm is good, hard and increasingly selfish, Thor taking what he wants. He uses his hands to encourage Loki’s back into a deeper arch, knows he’s got the angle right when Loki cries out.

“Thor-” he hisses, stomach tightening pleasantly each time Thor’s cock brushes him just right.

And Thor is relentless. Once he’s hitting Loki’s prostate more often than not he quickens his pace, uses more force, until the only sound other than their mutual, unsophisticated grunts is the loud slapping of flesh on flesh.

It’s too much, too intense, and yet Loki wants more, feels greedy and desperate to take everything Thor can give him, finds himself begging for it between short and shallow breaths. He cries out when Thor stops, deep inside, and let’s his hand trail from Loki’s hip all the way up his spine.

He shivers when Thor’s palm comes to rest in a loose grip at his nape, calloused fingers squeezing, possessive, under the guise of soothing him. Loki shivers, and Thor shushes him gently even as he picks up his pace again.

Loki was often this way, overwhelmed by it, and Thor always knew just how to settle him down. When he picks up his pace again it’s more measured, steady, and when he lets go of Loki’s neck and plants his hand down on the floor inches from his face it’s natural, instinctual, for Loki to hook his fingers over Thor’s, to ground them both.

After that it’s a steep downward slope, Loki grips Thor’s fingers harder and reaches down to stroke his own hard cock, desperately chasing his orgasm. He comes right as Thor hits his prostate, so well timed it’s close to a miracle, and when he closes his eyes he sees little white dots.

Thor sits back on his knees and takes hold of Loki by the hips again, ruts into him hard and fast and Loki takes it, still shuddering from his own orgasm. His hips begin to ache from the force of Thor’s grasp and he lets out an airy groan, just as Thor tips forward to lean his weight against his back, fucking him hard and shallow. When his body tightens and his hips begin to stutter, Loki reaches back to hold his thigh, relishing the sensation of being filled.

It seems like forever before Thor stops tensing in pulses, but then he sags his weight down onto Loki fully and steals his breath. Loki doesn’t have the energy to push him off and he’s not sure Thor would let him, instead they lay tangled together, their clammy skin sticking, and try to catch their breath.

Thor rolls to his side just enough that his thigh takes his weight and slips his arm around Loki’s waist, runs his knuckles up from the soft concave of his stomach. He’s always looked underfed, even at seventeen when he’d taken a stab at athleticism to appease Odin, but on his side with his skin stretched across them his ribs are stark, and Thor’s knuckles bump against them one by one.

“Come home,” he says again, a gentle whisper. Everything is him; Loki’s senses are overrun with his touch, his scent, his taste. Thor’s thumb traces the piercings that line the shell of his ear and Loki can do nothing but shudder beneath him.

He nods, the smallest movement, a surrender. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

He doesn’t promise that he’ll stay, he’s sure that he won’t, but Thor seems to think that it’s a start. And maybe it is.


	2. 100 Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG fic, meet cute.
> 
> Thor lives in the tourist district and hates hen parties...usually.

Living and working in the tourist area meant dealing with tourists, something Thor had known in theory when taking the job.

He considered himself a simple man with simple needs, preferring the atmosphere of small pubs to the raucous energy of tourist bars, but he’d be hard pushed to find a small pub here.

Instead, after work every Friday he dragged himself to the winding clubs near the beach and picked one out at random. He’d gotten quite adept at blanking it all out; the wild hen parties and testosterone-fuelled stags, the teenagers on the cusp of adulthood taking their first independent holiday. He found that he was able to sit in his quiet corner and drown it all out, think about his week ahead, what work the project still required.

Tonight was different though. Tonight there was an anomaly amongst the crowd that Thor was struggling to ignore no matter how hard he tried.

Ordinarily the rule of thumb saw to it that the bride-to-be was the stand-out figure in a hen party, usually with a gaudy veil or a sash across her torso declaring her the VIP, but tonight that wasn’t the case.

A stag party near the door had quieted and stared as the hen party walked in, and it was only once they approached the bar that Thor had spotted why.  
There was the bride, of course, in a white, embroidered corset and white suspenders, a sexed-up mockery of the virginal white wedding gown, and all of her hens too were corseted up in equally bright colours. That wasn’t out of the ordinary, not in the slightest; Thor had seen firsthand how hen parties were a last hurrah for the bride, one last chance to act wild and single, to flirt with men and misbehave.

What was out of the ordinary about this party was the male amongst them. More beautiful than any of the others, with slicked back black hair and coal-rimmed eyes, he too was dressed in a corset, green with black suspenders on his shapely legs. A lacy black tutu and high heels completed the look, leaving him looking like some sort of doll.

He sidled up the bar beside his friends, throwing Thor a side-glance as he did. There was a moment of appraisal there, a lingering second when his eyes dropped to take in Thor’s untidy work clothes. If the slight downturn of his mouth was any indication, he found Thor wanting.

When he turned back to order his drink Thor allowed himself to smile, amused by the apparent disdain. He saw it often on the faces of the more high-maintenance girls, displeased by his presence in their fancy bar.

He didn’t let it stop him from tilting his head to stare at the pert curve of his arse, exposed beneath the rough lace of his black tutu skirt as he bent slightly over the bar to speak with the bartender.

Drinks ordered the hens made their way to the dance floor, holding cocktails with ridiculous straws above their heads as they danced.

For once, Thor let himself enjoy the view.

The stags by the door leaked onto the lit floor to dance too, flirting and groping, all with an unsubtle avoidance of the male hen. He didn’t seem to care, throwing them the same disdainful look that he’d given Thor.

By his side at all times was the shortest girl amongst them, her corset and suspenders a deep red that matched the thick rims of her stylish glasses. They looked like complete opposites; him at least six foot and lean with it, her curvy and no taller than his chest, but they laughed and danced together, spinning each other, apparently oblivious to the heavy flirting going on between their friends and the stags.

Fifteen minutes later the two of themwere back at the bar, leaning to catch their breath while they waited for the attention of the staff.

The girl glanced over her shoulder and offered Thor a smile, and when he offered a small smile in return she brightened.

“Can you help me earn fifty points?” she said, moving over to hold out a small card, batting her false lashes.

Green eyes slid over to observe them and Thor caught on them for a moment before taking the card. On the back it looked like a normal playing card but as he flipped it over to find that instead of a number it contained a challenge.  
 _‘Kiss a bearded man’_ it said, and in the corner in large font there was a **_'50 points’_** mark.

Chuckling a little, Thor passed the card back. She was cute, with lovely wide lips and cleavage so generous it nearly spilled over her corset.

Eyes flicking back to green ones, Thor nodded. “On the cheek.”

“I won’t try to kiss your mouth,” she grinned back, lifting two fingers to her temple in a mock salute. “Scouts honour.”

Her friend laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t trust her,” he muttered as he lifted their cocktails from the bar.

In mock outrage she nudged him hard enough to spill some of the bright liquid over his hand.

He tutted, placing it back down to wipe his hand, waving in Thor’s direction. “Kiss the bloody lumberjack and be done with it, hurry up.”

Thor huffed, looking down at himself. In his work boots and plaid he supposed he did look something like lumberjack.

“Don’t mind Loki,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s just bitter that my card says I have to kiss you and his doesn’t.”

She kept her word, pecking him lightly on the cheek and likely leaving a red gloss behind. With the kiss done she ticked off her fifty points and thanked him before dragging 'Loki’ away.

For another half hour they stayed, dancing and getting drinks intermittently, and every once in a while a chorus of cheers would sound as somebody else completed their challenge.

Thor was on his fourth beer when several of the girls, including the bride, gathered at the bar with the short girl from before.

“He doesn’t want to,” she was saying, forceful and determined, but the bride just held a hand up in her face.

“Darcy,” she said, her words half-slurred already. “He drew the card, he has to do it.”

It was clear that they were talking about their friend Loki, and when Thor sought him across the room it was clear that Loki knew full-well he was the subject of their impromptu meeting.

“Don’t make him,” Darcy said, pleading. “He’s not as confident as he pretends.”

But before she could be rebuffed again Loki marched over, tutu bouncing with each determined step, and snatched the card from the bride’s hand. Reading it over once, he grabbed Darcy’s drink and knocked it back before swishing over to climb up onto the edge of the DJ box.

For a moment he leaned there, talking into the DJs ear, and Thor took the opportunity to again look his fill. The black suspenders were clipped on to matching lacy knickers that just peaked out from beneath the skirt, but it was the short expanse of smooth, pale thigh that had his attention.

When the music was suddenly lowered down he looked back up at Loki’s face just as the DJ turned the mic to face him. Everyone watched, surprised by the change in volume, as he patted his palm against it twice to check it was working.

“I’m so lonely,” he said into the mic, tone exasperated and clearly supposed to sound bored. “Will someone marry me?”

An awkward quiet fell over the place, the stags suddenly falling silent and three older locals near the door averting their eyes. Some of the hens had to stifle drinker giggles as the small one, Darcy, went to raise her her hand.

“It has to be a man!” the bride hissed, slapping Darcy’s hand back down.

Up on the edge of the box, Loki was looking distinctly uncomfortable, his mouth turned down in a scowl that was surely aimed at his friends.

“Nobody?” he said, huffing, but Thor sensed something more than just simple annoyance in his tone.

He was embarrassed.

He’d been barely short of rude with his unimpressed appraisal earlier, but suddenly Thor wondered if it was more self-preservation than true arrogance. The longer the crowd kept up their answering silence the more his brows drew together, and Thor watched as his throat bobbed with a nervous swallow.

For all of his earlier bravado, the challenge had left him exposed and in need of a little kindness and he seemed to doubt that he was going to get it.

With a sigh and one last gulp of his beer, Thor made up his mind. The stool scraped along the floor as he stood up, raising his hand in a vague wave.

“I will,” he called over the still-quiet music, reaching back to grab his jacket from the stool.

Turning again he found Loki wavering on the edge of the DJ box, clearly contemplating the drop to the floor in his tall heels.

Like a gentleman, Thor made his way over and held up a hand to assist his drop down. Loki hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand for a moment before finally grasping it and using it as leverage to hop to the floor.

“So,” he said as he righted himself, one neat eyebrow raised. “You’re to be my husband?”

Thor shrugged, purposefully not letting go of the slender hand.

“Well,” he said, fighting off a smile. “Marriage is a big commitment. Perhaps we’ll start with dinner.”

-


	3. In Spite of Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mafia AU
> 
> Loki is meeting the son of Odin to make an exchange.

"Arm yourself, for once,” Laufey murmured, not even looking up from the pile of money set in neat stacks across his desk. “He’ll be sending the blonde beast.”

‘Thor,’ Loki carefully didn't say. Retrieving the briefcase from beside the door he offered a curt nod even though his father wasn't looking.

-

The warehouse was cold and so remote that the only sound was the percussive drip-drip-drip of old rain falling to the concrete floor.

Loki flattened the lapels of his suit and waited, leaning against the door of the Jaguar. It was new and he'd taken great care to nose it beneath the rusted, half-lifted shutters at the side of the building.

He expected to hear Thor coming, ears tuned in anticipation of a motorcycle engine. Odin’s son had removed the mufflers they day he acquired the bike, leaving it to emit a series of deep, grumbling pops every hundred yards or so.

Loki startled when Thor stepped out into the light, his large figure throwing a shadow so long it swallowed the toe of Loki’s shiny shoes.

By contrast to Loki’s tidy appearance, Thor wore scuffed biker boots and a suit jacket over dark jeans, shirt open to the fifth button revealing a portion of his chest. The unlit cigarette between his lips bobbed as he smirked, apparently pleased to have startled Loki.

“Hello beautiful,” he mumbled. The metal lighter caught the light as he lifted it in his large hand, and without taking his eyes off Loki he dipped his head until the tip of the cigarette glowed within the small flame.

As usual, Loki didn't dignify his amused flirting with a response.

“You have something for me?” he asked in a clipped tone, businesslike.

Thor smirked again, boots crunching against the old floor as he approached. “Do you mean the product, or are we talking about something else?”

A wink.

God, Loki hated him.

Lifting the briefcase, Loki presented it like a door-to-door salesman, steadying it with one hand flat underneath while he opened it to reveal the notes inside.

Thor looked past the money, reaching to flick the handcuff at Loki’s wrist. He'd done it the moment he parked, handcuffed himself to the handle of the briefcase as he'd been taught.

Clucking his tongue, Thor shook his head. “I see Laufey would still rather you lost your hand than his money.”

Funnily enough, Thor had been the first one to point that out. In his youth, in his excitement to learn the business and earn his father’s approval, Loki had simply done as he was told without question. He'd first been handcuffed to the briefcase during a deal when he was just sixteen years old, completely blind to the potential risk of such a thing if the deal went sour.

He was nineteen to Thor’s twenty-one the first time they’d each been trusted with doing an unchaperoned exchange, and Thor’s casual comment about the handcuffs had left him reeling.

He was more able to compose himself in the face of his father’s lack of compassion these days.

“He's a businessman,” he shrugged, nodding to Thor’s empty hands. “Where is it?”

Flicking his ash indiscriminately on the floor, Thor headed over to the wall and flicked a switch that set off a row of overhead lights, each one pinging to life like bright dominoes.

Thor’s bike, deep red and shiny, stood in the far corner with a large, black backpack propped against the front wheel.

On the back of Loki’s Jaguar they exchanged their goods in silence, side by side, Loki lifting out wads of cash to hand to Thor, ignoring the brush of their fingers as Thor in return handed him compacted bricks of white powder.

They'd done it so many times before that communication was unnecessary, and as soon as the exchange was complete Loki clipped the briefcase closed and turned to go.

He hadn't even taken a full step when Thor gripped his free arm, unburdened by the cuffed briefcase, and swung him back around.

Loki tipped up his chin, feigning indifference as Thor dropped his backpack to the floor and stepped closer.

“That's not all you came for, is it?”

Loki flicked his eyes back up to Thor’s face half expecting the smug smile, but instead a frown was creasing a ridge between Thor’s brows.

He tried not to give anything away, but Thor wasn't as stupid as he let his enemies believe, and he'd been able to see past Loki’s stoicism for years now.

“Is it?” he asked again as he closed the rest of the space between them, thick fingers slipping inside Loki’s jacket to grip at his waist.

His nose bumped against Loki’s cheek as he leaned in, and the imposing width of him that had once intimidated Loki lit a fire inside his stomach. Reading that too, Thor hooked his thumb inside the collar of Loki’s shirt and brushed the warm skin there.

When Loki’s fingers slipped from the handle of the briefcase it dropped just an inch and then stopped, metal cuff catching on his skin, and he hissed against the plush lips that were now just millimetres from his.

“Do you have the key?” Thor’s brow furrowed as he scrambled to lift the case again.

Loki’s scoff was genuine. “Of course I don't have the key, you idiot, what would be the point of that?”

He'd long gotten used to steering with just one hand, the other locked to the precious product and only just able to reach the gearstick.

Thor growled, walking Loki backwards around the car until his lower back hit the bonnet, still warm from the heat of the engine.

“No, Thor, not my new car-” Loki urged, but Thor was already lifting the briefcase to rest high up by the windscreen, forcing Loki’s arm back at an awkward angle. He had little choice but to go with it as he was lifted to sit on the warm metal.

Standing between his legs, Thor rid himself of his jacket, quick to unfasten the rest of his shirt buttons and the zipper of his dark jeans.

Loki’s eyes followed his hands, reacquainting himself with the tight cut of Thor’s bronzed abdomen and the thatch of golden brown curls revealed within the v of his open jeans.

Though amused by his distraction, Thor pointedly lifted Loki’s free hand to the buttons of his white shirt, reaching up himself to tug loose the knot of his black tie. Once done with that, he busied himself with the fastening of Loki’s suit trousers, taking a moment to cup the hardening length of his cock.

Loki grunted, pushing up into it.

“Want me to fuck you?”

Even as he said it Thor was yanking Loki’s shoes off, tossing them aside, and tugging his trousers down too with enough force that Loki nearly slid down the bonnet. He discarded them with little care, ignorant as always of Loki’s concern for the expensive material. His underwear was quick to follow, letting clinging to one lean calf, and then Thor was shoving his own jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh and bullying his way closer.

Loki had never seen him naked, always like this with his shirt hanging open and his fat cock on display, but Thor had an obvious fondness for Loki’s pale inner thighs and bared them to his gaze every time.

He was breathing heavily already and Loki revelled in it, giving in and lying prone to watch with hooded eyes as Thor pulled a packet of lube from the breast pocket of his open shirt and tore it open with his teeth.

Parting his knees further was all the permission Loki gave, and Thor groaned low, rushing to squeeze enough slick onto his fingers to work Loki open.

For all his infamous temper and impatience he didn't ever rush this, taking great pains to make sure Loki enjoyed himself, and so slowly he leaned his body down over Loki’s, nuzzling beneath his jaw as two slick fingers found the furl of his hole and began to circle it.

It was almost too much, the dual sensations, and for all his pride Loki couldn't swallow down the desperate whine it conjured up. He felt Thor’s lips pull into a smile against his skin and made a point of digging his heels in.

“Did you miss me?” Thor murmured against his throat, punctuating it with a sharp nip at Loki’s jaw.

Loki said nothing, but tilted his chin up to bare his throat more to Thor’s mouth.

Last time Thor had been experimenting with a beard. He’d looked distinguished and more business-ready with it, handsome as ever, but Loki had come away with a rash down his neck and across his cheeks; one that had kept him from driving back to Laufey for hours.

He’d been gifted a hell of a backhand for that - not because Laufey had been concerned for his son’s safety, but for the safety of his product.

He was glad to find Thor’s face smooth now.

“Did you shave especially for me?” he asked, slapping lightly at Thor’s cheek.

With two fingers poised at his entrance, Thor raised an eyebrow. “You didn't like it?”

Too proud to tell him about the beating he took, Loki only shrugged; all casual as if Thor wasn't about to finger him open for his cock.

“I didn't like the evidence it left on me.”

With a huff, Thor growled,  “Guess I'll have to find other ways to mark you then.”

Loki gasped as Thor breached him roughly, as if determined to make good on the promise.

Hissing through grit teeth Loki took it, head falling back again, and Thor took that as an invitation to mouth and suck at the thin, white skin over his collarbone.

His thick fingers felt good, familiar after all this time, and before long Loki was moving into the touch, torn between rocking down onto Thor’s fingers and grinding up against the ridges of his abdomen.

“Do you have anything?” he asked, palming over Thor’s breast pocket again and finding it empty.

He’d always insisted on condoms, having overheard far too many of Odin’s boasts about his son’s popularity, until the last time they’d met for an exchange and Thor had conveniently forgotten to bring anything other than lube. Already too worked up by then to stop, Loki had allowed it, tugging roughly at Thor’s hair to punish him even as he’d secretly savoured the feeling of Thor’s bare cock inside him.

He could tell from Thor’s slightly guilty expression that he purposefully hadn't brought anything, intending to take him without again.

Dropping his head back onto the window he sighed, still pushing down on the thick fingers inside him. “I hate you.”

“You hate how much you missed me,” Thor said matter-of-factly, slipping his fingers free and slapping them wetly against Loki’s sensitive hole.

Loki watched as he took his cock in hand, the blushing tip wet with his own slick even before he squeezed the rest of the lube out and stroked himself with it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Loki answered belatedly, distractedly, and then he could say nothing because Thor was pushing inside.

It hurt still, every time, but it was a good hurt, a hurt that was followed immediately by pleasure, a hurt that reminded him of Thor for days after.

Thor took it as slow as he could, as slow as his need would allow, but Loki didn't mind when he bottomed out with a sharp jab, equally needy for it. This time they’d gone longer than usual and, as much as he’d never give in to Thor’s demands to say it out loud, he had missed Thor.

“Sorry, sorry,” Thor groaned, but even as he did he was pulling back, readying himself to drive back in.

Loki’s back squeaked against the metal as the force of Thor’s thrust shifted him, but then Thor’s strong hand was gripping his hip to hold him in place, the other hooking underneath his knee to open him up further, to allow Thor deeper inside. He took it almost like a challenge, too, sliding in deep and then grinding himself there until Loki felt stuffed full of him.

Every single time, there was a moment between them, just like this, where Loki was terrified that Thor was trying to root himself so deep inside that they'd never be parted.

Thor found Loki’s mouth with his own, a kiss somehow forceful and tender at once, as if Thor could read his mind and wanted to both allay his fears and confirm them at the same time.

Loki only ever let Thor kiss him like this, at the height of it, when he could blame his traitorous body and his needs, when Thor couldn't read the truth in it.

And the truth, as shameful as it was, was that Loki lived for these stolen moments, these trysts with the son of his father’s enemy-cum-ally. He craved Thor’s touch, counted the days between exchanges, listened with care to every conversation Laufey had regarding Odin just in case he could offer his services and put himself in Thor’s path.

What had started as a means to quietly rebel, a dirty secret, had become so much more. And Thor felt it too, Loki knew. It was apparent in every thrust of his hips, every slide of his tongue over Loki’s.

“Tell me you missed me,” he insisted again, a breathy plea against Loki’s lips.

In answer, Loki only wound the long fingers of his unshackled hand in Thor’s hair and pulled him down into another kiss. It irritated Thor that he wouldn't say it, had him puffing hot breath out of his nose as they kissed and redoubling his efforts to fuck deep and steady, fingertips digging in hard enough to leave a mark just like he promised.

Loki’s sharp whine was lost in Thor’s mouth, breath leaving him in a rush and forcing him to tear his mouth away.

Thor held him there then, hand winding up around his neck so that they were face to face, and Loki blinked at the darkness in Thor’s usually blue eyes.

“You close?” Thor murmured, as if he needed to ask, and then his other hand released Loki’s knee and worked between them to fist at Loki’s leaking cock.

“Please,” Loki whined, hating himself. He sounded so desperate, so needy and vulnerable. Thor’s thumb stroked behind his ear as if to soothe, a stark contrast to the rapid movement of his hips.

“I love coming inside you,” Thor said then, a seemingly random confession blurted out in the heat of the moment. He frowned as if surprised by it himself, but carried on regardless. “I like the thought of you driving back there, full of me, and him not knowing.”

It was almost funny, how Thor seemed to hate Laufey even more than Loki did.

A year ago Loki had cut his hair at Laufey’s behest. He'd thought, stupidly, that it would change the way his father looked at him, or at least gain him a little more respect amongst his father’s faithful inferiors. The only actual effect had been anger from Thor, who took every one of Laufey’s slights against Loki like a personal insult.

No wonder he loved the thought of dirtying Loki up so much.

Honestly, Loki too felt that the thought had its appeal.

“Do it then,” he said, arching his back beneath Thor’s weight like a preening cat, tugging harder at Thor’s hair. “Do it.”

But Thor wouldn't, not until Loki did, and in the end Loki had batted Thor’s clumsy hand away from his cock and taken up the job himself, the rhythm he liked. In no time at all he was tensing up, near to howling with how good it felt, releasing onto his own stomach and chest with a mumbling that could've resembled Thor’s name.

Thor froze shortly after that, caught in the squeeze of Loki’s spasming hole around him, and came with a shuddering breath. Loki held him through it despite his own limbs feeling numb, enjoying the sporadic shivers that wracked Thor’s big frame as he came down from it.

Afterwards they didn't speak much, though Loki muttered a sarcastic thank you as Thor retrieved his suit trousers from the floor.

Sliding down off the bonnet caused a pull deep inside him that he struggled not to show, but Thor’s eyes were on him all the same. Yanking the briefcase down behind him, Loki attempted to play it off as if it was his shoulder that had made him wince - aching as it was from being held in the same position for so long.

Once he'd neatened himself up, even managing to fasten his tie with the briefcase balanced on the roof of the car, he cleared his throat and slipped inside the Jag without so much as a goodbye.

It was self-preservation more than anything, and ordinarily Thor let him get away with it.

He rapped his knuckles on the window, bending down so they were eye level. With an eyeroll, Loki let down the window with a mechanical burr.

“You should take this,” Thor said, holding a scrap of paper between his fingers.

Loki glanced at it but didn't move to take it. “I can't be seen to have your number, Thor.”

He could just imagine the interrogation that would result from that. Laufey’s business relationship with his former enemy was tenuous at best, and rife with suspicion.

Thor only shrugged, unmoving. “So put me in your phone as...I don't know. Donald.”

Wrinkling his nose, Loki shook his head. “Donald?”

People compared Thor to Odin often, spoke of them as if Thor was so alike his father he could be a clone, but Loki didn't see it. Couldn't ever imagine Odin being so playful.

“Donald is a good, strong name.” Thor’s cheeks dimpled when he smiled, and Loki felt himself softening again.

More and more he was finding himself unable to rebuild the veneer of indifference after their meetings.

“Fine,” he said finally, snatching the paper away and winding his window back up in a rush to block out anything else Thor might say. Awkwardly with just his one free hand, he reached over to the glove compartment to retrieve his phone, tapping the number in and labelling it, as suggested, ‘Donald’.

He only lowered the window just enough to throw the paper back out.

With precision and care, he reversed out beneath the shutters, the way he’d come in, pointedly not looking at Thor as he watched with his arms crossed over his chest. Once clear he spun the car around and headed for the edge of the lot.

Only then did he glance in the rear view mirror. The lights inside went out, shrouding the place in darkness once again, and Loki waited a beat, just long enough to hear Thor’s motorcycle roar to life.

With the briefcase cuffed to him and Thor’s come drying in the seat of his underwear, Loki drove the long way home. Laufey be damned.


	4. Moody Nudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's into photography, but he can't get his brother to model for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for and inspired by [thorduna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNefer/pseuds/thorduna). <3

Frigga thinks it's adorable how many photographs Loki has of his brother.

If only she knew.

They're all candid shots, secret moments he was able to capture when Thor wasn't looking. His favourite, by far, is a monochrome photograph of Thor studying, cheek all scrunched up atop his fist as he grumpily studies the page.

They're all over his room. Odin rolls his eyes whenever he sees them but so far he seems to buy the excuse that they're just Loki’s favourite photography accomplishments rather than...you know, a shrine.

Thor won't pose for him. Loki’s offered him all sorts of incentives but he’s never taken the bait. He's a grump, and although Loki loves him for it it's really hindering his mission to get Thor naked on film.

“Moody nudes?” Thor mutters from his bed, staring disapprovingly at Loki over his shoulder. He eyes the camera for a moment before looking back down at his textbook. “You're an idiot.”

Loki only creeps further into the room.

Thor’s such a _boy_. His room no longer has the cloying smell of cheap body spray but it's still full of sports posters and memorabilia, with a pile of dirty clothes three feet from the basket and curtains that are hardly ever open.

“Come on,” he nudges, lifting the his camera and snapping a picture of Thor’s jean-clad arse. “It'll be fun. I'll suck your dick afterwards.”

That gets a little huff of laughter, but no other response.

“Thoooooor,” he tries again, a sweet little sing-song that he pairs with a kick to Thor’s bed. And then another.

That does it, and before he can even register Thor’s growl he’s being yanked up onto the bed and tossed beneath the bulk of his brother. He pulls the camera close to his chest as the mattress settles beneath him, protecting it from Thor’s rough treatment.

“Be _care_ ful,” he scolds, wiggling to place the camera on the bedside table as Thor settles between his legs and grinds there, grinning in satisfaction as Loki’s hold on the camera falters and it clunks down onto the wood.

Gritting his teeth Loki moves to smack Thor upside the head but his move is anticipated, and then he can’t move at all because both of his wrists are caught up above his head in a strong hold.

“Don’t,” he whines, but he doesn’t mean it, and instead of playing along like he sometimes does Thor only bends down to nuzzle at his pale throat. His dick is hard and Loki opens his knees further for it, grinding up as his body buzzes with Thor’s attention.

They don’t have much time. Soon their parents will be home from work and they’ll all eat together around the table like a normal family, Loki and Thor opposite each other kicking under the table and flicking peas off spoons as if they hadn’t been desperately getting each other off just an hour before.

“What did you say about sucking my dick?” Thor hums, the scrape of his teeth against Loki’s throat syncing perfectly with the burr of his zipper being tugged down, his thick, ruddy knuckles brushing the length of Loki’s cock through his trousers. Clumsily he lifts his hips to shove his jeans down over his arse and then gets to work on the fastening of Loki’s tight black cords.

Loki lifts dutifully, lets Thor bare him from the waist down. “I said if you let me take some pictures of you-”

“Some _moody nudes_ , I remember,” Thor interrupts, spitting crudely into his palm and stroking his own cock. The wet sound it makes, his pink cockhead slipping in and out of his closed fist, turns Loki on almost as much as the sight of it.

Thor’s laughing at him, he thinks, about the moody nudes idea, but it’s okay. Loki will get him back later.

Or sooner than that, maybe.

“Wanna fuck me?” He says, even though he knows they don’t really have enough time for Thor to prep him properly. He likes the way Thor’s eyes darken a little. “Want to? Put your fat cock in me?”

Thor loves it when Loki talks about the size of his dick. He’s always had a narcissistic streak, one that Loki ordinarily enjoys trying to break him of, but the first time he’d gotten his brother’s cock in-hand he’d been unable to disguise the amazement and slight anxiety it inspired in him.

“You sure?” Thor asks, because he always asks. Like maybe he still suspects Loki is only doing this because Thor likes it. Like maybe he doesn’t believe the way Loki moans for it when he’s stuffed full.

He lets Loki guide him down onto his back, helpfully kicks off his jeans even further until they’re tangled below his knees while Loki goes rooting in the bedside drawer for the massive bottle of lube Thor keeps there.

Hungry eyes watch as Loki pumps out a generous amount and reaches behind himself. He has to arch his back to get his fingers inside himself and Thor moans, stroking his cock again as he watches Loki’s face.

“Lemme see,” he grunts.

He’s so bossy, but it means nothing when Loki is above him like this. He raises a brow. “We don’t have time to play.”

Two fingers is a stretch but he presses a third in anyway, hissing, because if they’re going to get this done it needs to be soon. It’s not the first time they’ve rushed this, and Loki quite likes sitting in class and feeling the niggling sting of too-quick sex, of Thor settled deep in him.

They don’t use condoms. Thor’s had sex with girls but he’s been tested since then and Loki had only ever fooled around before this. He thinks Thor likes that more than anything, knowing that he’s the only one.

There’s excess slick all over Loki’s palm and he uses it on Thor’s cock, clucking his tongue when Thor chases the feeling of being stroked, thrusting his hips. Shuffling his knees up further he drops down to give Thor a messy kiss before sitting back slowly, guiding with his slick hand until he can feel the tip of Thor’s cock nudging along the cleft of his arse.

They both moan.

It’s easy enough, despite the burn of Thor’s thick head as it bullies him open, to sink right down until he’s straddling his brother properly, knees against Thor’s sides. Thor’s hands are on his thighs, holding him tight, and he’s making a generous effort not to thrust up. Loki knows it feels good to be all the way inside because Thor always gets a glassy look in his eyes, his lips parting like he can’t get enough breath.

Loki rocks.

The noise that escapes Thor’s throat is one reminiscent of both pain and pleasure, and his fingertips sink deeper into Loki’s skin.

“Fuck,” he says, squeezing his eyes tight for a few seconds. His nostrils flare like a wild animal, his jaw ticking with his effort to control himself. The moment he says Loki’s name, Loki begins to move.

Circular at first, like he’s on one of those fake rodeo bulls, careful swirls of his hips designed to drive Thor crazy. With his hand clenched in the cotton of Thor’s shirt he lifts up a little, circling again, tempted to say ‘yee-haw’ just to pull Thor from his trance.

Slowly, Thor slips his hands up Loki’s thighs to his hips. Loki knows then that it’s coming, and braces himself for the first upwards jab of Thor’s hips. It forces a moan out of his throat, his mouth dropping open at the first burning pull of Thor’s cock drawing out of him. Thor takes it slow, only to shove back inside without warning. It throws Loki off his pace but then Thor does it again, setting a new rhythm for them, one that suits him more

“So impatient,” Loki huffs, but he goes at Thor’s speed, grinding back into the solid thrusts and doing his best to lift onto his knees when Thor pulls back even though he knows his thighs will ache from it soon enough.

Thor’s huffing out deep breaths already, excitement and exertion both, and his lips twitch up at the corners when Loki lifts one hand to delicately brush his black hair over the top of his head, like a shampoo commercial.

“Such a babe,” Thor laughs at him as best he can, fucking him still. “You look good like this.”

Loki flicks his tongue along his lips. “Taking your cock, you mean?”

Thor reaches for him. Loki leans down again, opens his mouth for a kiss, but then Thor is holding him still, bracing Loki there so he can fuck up into him good and fast. It really is like a rodeo then, holding on for dear life and just taking what Thor gives.

His exhales are forced out of him then as Thor fucks him impatiently, each thrust hitting like a punch inside him. Loki wails when Thor’s cock brushes him just right, and for his trouble he gets four thick fingers shoved against his lips.

He bites.

When Thor pulls his hand back, lesson learnt, Loki bites his lip to keep himself quiet. It feels too good, even though Thor isn’t hitting that spot every time, and Loki’s eyes begin to water with it. Thor knows he’s got Loki going too, because he keeps at it, the same pace, holding him still, until Loki is shaking.

With a more reserved moan he comes on the hem of Thor’s shirt and on the trail of golden hair below his navel, shivering as Thor fucks him through it almost selfishly, holding his hips close and barely slowing his pace.

Short of breath Loki does his best to rock with Thor’s thrusts but mostly he’s just letting Thor have him. He can watch him like this, study his face, work out how close he is from the familiar furrow of his brows and the tight set of his mouth.

With Thor lost in it, deep in the clutches of his impending orgasm, he’s able to reach for his camera.

He clicks indiscriminately, wanting to capture the minutiae of it; every single shift in Thor’s expression. When it comes Thor grits his teeth and growls it out, like he’s in pain, neck muscles straining and eyes clenched tight. He’s pulsing, not just his cock but the whole of him, tensing and untensing like shocks are running through him. A moan slips out at the last moment, broken like his throat has closed around it, and then he stills.

When he opens his eyes and finds himself face to face with the camera he doesn’t even look surprised.

-

Later, in Loki’s en-suite bathroom-slash-darkroom, Thor presses up behind him and stares at the photographs of himself coming apart.

“You manipulated me,” he says, sounding oddly neutral about it.

Loki leans back against his chest. “Yeah.”


	5. The Rest We'll Just Wait and See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twist on this NYE prompt:
> 
> As new step-siblings, Thor and Loki get a bit too drunk to remember they should maybe skip each other when playing spin the bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [thorduna](http://thorduna.tumblr.com/) for the great prompt, to [Selene](http://sheilatakesabow.tumblr.com/) and [Noora](http://pohjanneito.tumblr.com/) for reading through this for me, and to [machilin12](http://machilin12.tumblr.com/) for always sending me such inspirational gifs!

One of the only perks of the marriage, as far as Thor could tell, was the huge house. Three storeys tall and located right in the nice part of town, it had been out of financial reach for both Odin and Frigga until they’d decided to pool their funds to pay for a posh wedding and a nice place to bring up their kids.  
  
Fifteen years older than Thor’s mum, Odin sported a white-grey beard, a map of wrinkles across every inch of his face and a pearly white cataract in one eye. Thor had been naturally sceptical of their union when he’d first been introduced to the old man. Until he’d met Loki.  
  
“Sickening, isn’t it,” the boy - shiny black hair, sharp features and a permanently dry, sarcastic tone - had uttered, staring at Frigga and Odin from across the room. “Two minutes in her presence and he turns to mush.”  
  
Without meaning to, Loki had convinced Thor of Odin’s affection for his mother, telling tales of a stern and difficult man who wouldn’t listen to reason and often punished without taking the time to hear Loki’s side of the story, but who softened to secretive smiles and waxing lyrical at the mere mention of Frigga’s name.  
  
As a result of the relationship he seemed to soften on Loki, too.  
  
And so the wedding had gone ahead, with Thor and Loki side by side in matching tuxes, and everyone’s lives had been packed into cardboard boxes and transported to the new place.  
  
The best part, aside from the fact that it was a two minute walk from school and Thor could practically roll out of bed into his first morning class, was the top floor.  
  
“We want you to have your own space,” Frigga had told them, touching both Thor and Loki on the shoulder as they stood gaping at the array of comfy old sofas and the gaming table that now filled the once-empty top floor.  
  
Later, as Thor sat cross-legged by the old TV setting up his PS4, Loki had loomed in the doorway with his arms crossed.  
  
“You know they only did this so that we’re out of the way? So the old man can put his tongue down your mum’s throat without either of us disturbing them.”  
  
Thor had nodded, not rising to it. “Good, I don't want to see that. Now stop being disgusting and help me find the cable for this.”  
  
They got on well, considering. Thor’s bedroom was on the second floor next to Frigga’s sewing room whereas Loki had opted for the smaller, more shadowy room behind their shared space on the top floor. It sort of matched his personality - dark and lofty.  
  
Loki, having transferred to Thor’s school, got on well enough in the company of Thor’s friends for the whole entire day it took him to find friends of his own, and it wasn’t unusual to find him curled up reading on the corner sofa while Thor, Hogun and Sif played video games or Fandral regaled Thor with tales of his latest girlfriend.  
  
Loki was two months older than him but a little shorter and quite a bit _smaller_ ; narrow shoulders and lean limbs, nothing like Thor’s growing bulk.  
  
He was pretty too, almost girly in the way his long lashes brushed his cheeks and his lips tended to be flushed pink.  
  
And if Thor sometimes found himself looking overlong at him across the breakfast table or looking out for him in the school hallways, well, that was...manageable.  
  
Nobody had been more surprised than Thor when their parents had so casually agreed to what Loki had referred to as a ‘ _small New Year’s Eve Get-Together_ ’ on their floor.  
  
Fandral had been over the moon at the news, enthusiastically inviting almost every girl in the school as if it were his own house.  
  
They’d been met with an influx of guests, some with bottles under their jackets that they’d pilfered from their own parents, others arriving in varied states of good cheer.  
  
Odin hadn’t batted his good eye at the first fifteen or so, but by the time the arrivals had hit the high twenties Thor and Loki had been forced to resort to strategy in order to get them upstairs undetected.  
  
“This is insanity,” Loki huffed, having reluctantly allowed the party to spill into his bedroom.  
  
Fandral clapped a can of awful cheap lager in each of their hands with a wide grin and countered, “This is brilliant.”  
  
It was many, many lagers later that had brought them to this.  
  
Spin the bottle.  
  
Midnight had come and gone, as had a good portion of the guests, when Fandral had tossed back the final dregs of someone’s rum and waved the brown bottle over his head demanding everybody sit in a circle.  
  
A headcount established that there were fifteen people left, though only twelve in the circle once Hogun, Sif’s brother Heimdall and a girl Thor didn’t know all opted to sit it out.  
  
“Sure you’re not up for it?” Fandral called over to Heimdall once he’d taken his seat on the floor, no doubt having noticed the disappointed glances a few of the girls threw in his direction.  
  
In response Heimdall only pointed to Sif, as if it should’ve been obvious that he wouldn’t want to play any sort of kissing game that involved his sister.  
  
Fandral snorted. “So? Thor and Loki are brothers and they’re playing.”  
  
All at once Thor was hit with the mental image of the bottle spinning to a stop, neck pointed directly at him, and Loki crawling through the centre of the circle to clamber into his lap.  
  
He nearly choked on his next breath as he rushed to say, “We’re not kissing!”  
  
Just as Loki blurted out an indignant, “We’re not brothers!”  
  
They each turned to each other in seeming surprise, as if to say _what do you mean we’re not...?_  
  
Loki’s neat brows were pulled together in a frown, his mouth a tight line. Thor looked away.  
  
“Okay, they’re not kissing even though they’re not brothers,” Fandral shrugged, putting the bottle down in the centre and giving it a healthy spin.  
  
Thor and Loki sat on opposite sides of the circle for the remainder of the game, engaging with everyone except each other. Only once did the bottle land on each of them on subsequent spins, and after a brief glance at Thor’s face Loki rolled his eyes and lifted one finger, twirling it in the air to indicate that the bottle should be respun.  
  
An hour later, well-kissed and tipsy, everyone filed out. At the door, Thor paused before letting Sif, Fandral and Heimdall leave.  
  
“I can’t believe he said we’re not brothers,” he murmured, unsure why it even bothered him. They’d known each other less than a year and had been living under the same roof for less than a month, but all that time Thor had been smothering his crush under guilt and fear of committing some awful taboo.  
  
“Well, you’re not brothers,” Sif said, shrugging, and before Thor could feign indignant at her dismissal of step-siblings, she added, “Odin’s not his dad.”  
  
And, well, she wasn’t wrong.  
  
Working out what Loki was to him kind of hurt Thor’s brain. He was surely a step-sibling in everything but technicality, but the technicality was...somewhat complex.  
  
Nobody knew where Loki’s mother was, not even Odin, but he’d raised his grandson since the boy was four and, despite being different in almost every way, they’d managed to make it twelve years without killing each other.  
  
Loki was a little sensitive about that information getting out, and so Thor had confided in his friends on strict instruction that they keep it secret. One glance at Heimdall, leaning back against the frame of the open door and beginning to fish his cigarettes out of his pocket, told Thor that Sif had told him.  
  
He threw her an unimpressed glance, then shrugged.  
  
“So he’s kind of like my step-cousin.”  
  
“No, that would mean your new dad was his uncle, wouldn’t it?” Fandral frowned. “He’s more like your...step-grandson?”  
  
Thor spluttered at that, thinking of all the times he’d let his gaze linger too long on the pale line of Loki’s neck. “I’m not his grandfather! Jesus, Fandral.”  
  
Heimdall was grinning around his cigarette.  
  
“Actually, since his mother is technically your step-sister now,” Sif said, palms up. “That makes you…”  
  
Blowing out a plume if smoke, Heimdall finished for her. “His step-Uncle.”  
  
_His uncle_. Fuck.  
  
Sif had always been perceptive, and seemed to realise that the news didn’t sit well with him. She patted him on the shoulder. “It doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “It’s just a technicality.”  
  
Once they’d gone Thor grabbed a roll of bin bags from under the sink and dragged his feet back upstairs, already dreading the clean-up.  
  
“Uncle Thor,” he huffed to himself as he reached the top floor.  
  
Sprawled on one of the sofas, Loki lifted his head. “Hm?”  
  
Thor didn’t reply, crouching to begin collecting the abandoned plastic cups, bottle caps and snack crumbs that littered the floor.  
  
Loki rolled slowly off the sofa to land beside him on his knees, grabbing the other side of the bag and doing the same.  
  
“Our friends are pigs,” he said after a few minutes, holding up a soggy snack that had either been in someone’s drink or their mouth.  
  
Thor hummed in agreement, shovelling more cups into the bag. It took him a moment to realise that Loki had stopped.  
  
Turning, he found himself the recipient of a serious stare.  
  
“How come you said you wouldn’t kiss me?”  
  
He didn’t _sound_ wounded or accusatory, just curious, but Thor had come to realise that Loki was adept at masking his feelings.  
  
He opened his mouth to respond but before he’d even sucked in a breath Loki lifted a finger.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_ say we’re related,” he warned.  
  
So he was wounded. And then-  
  
“I’ve seen how you look at me.”  
  
All at once Thor’s shame and guilt crept up, warming his cheeks. “I don’t mean to.”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Loki countered, without looking away. Thor blinked, but Loki still held his gaze.  
  
So Thor turned his attention back to the mess.  
  
Loki huffed loudly, a message, and then got up off his knees to move across the room.  
  
Both relieved and disappointed that that was the apparent end of their conversation, Thor surveyed the rest of the room to estimate how long they’d be cleaning in awkward silence.  
  
But, of course, Loki wasn’t done.  
  
“You think I agreed to play because I wanted to kiss a bunch of random people?” he said to the tower of collected cups in his hand, not looking over this time. “It didn’t even occur to me that you’d dismiss me on false grounds of being brothers until I was already in the circle and I couldn’t get up after that, could I? Imagine how that would’ve looked. So instead I spent the rest of the game occupying myself by trying to guess what everyone had been drinking based on the taste of their mouth.”  
  
He barely seemed to come up for breath, irritation clear in his voice as though he blamed Thor entirely for the disappointing turn his evening had taken.  
  
“I’ve just had to brush my teeth while you saw your friends out because my mouth felt like a public playground.”  
  
Thor ran his tongue across his own teeth, tasting beer and feeling a film of sugar left behind by snacks and sweet mixers.  
  
Loki was in full rant-mode now, gesticulating with his unoccupied hand, dregs of drink sloshing out of his cup tower as he moved.  
  
Starting to move towards him, Thor told himself it was to quieten him in case he aroused the attention of Frigga and Odin on the floor below.  
  
Loki was still lost in his rant. “How you can know a person for, what’s it been...ten months? And consider them your _brother_ is beyond me, honestly, I’ve never had a brother and I don’t bloody want one now. And another thing-”  
  
Whatever it was, the other thing, was lost as Thor tugged Loki in by the back of the neck.  
  
A surprised hum escaped Loki’s chest as Thor brought their lips together, and for a moment he did nothing but _be kissed_ , like he wasn’t sure whether it was some kind of weird accident. To convince him otherwise, Thor snuck his tongue out to lick along the seam of Loki’s mouth.  
  
The tower of cups Loki had been holding toppled to the ground as he brought his hands up to grip at the material of Thor’s shirt, parting his lips and meeting Thor’s tongue with his own.  
  
He tasted hot and cold at once, like toothpaste, and Thor felt momentarily apologetic that he too hadn’t thought to brush his teeth.  
  
When Loki shoved at his shoulders he lost his balance, stomach dropping in panic before he felt the sofa at his knees, and then before he knew it he was sitting down with a lapful of Loki.  
  
This time it was Loki who caught his mouth, Loki who gripped his neck, pressing himself in until they were crotch to crotch and chest to chest, heads tilted as they bit and licked at each other’s mouths.  
  
Thor was hard, but it was okay because Loki was too, and as the first rolling friction sent a fluttering buzz through Thor’s body he wasn’t sure which one of them was grinding into the other.  
  
As their movements grew larger and quicker it became almost impossible to maintain the kiss, leaving them eventually breathing into each other’s mouths, foreheads pressed together, eyes open, as Loki rode Thor’s lap and Thor pulled him in tight by the hips.  
  
“Fuck,” he gritted out, stomach full of fire, unsure how they’d gotten to this when five minutes ago they were standing feet apart.  
  
Loki grinned. “Not tonight.”  
  
The thought of it, the thought that he might actually get to _have_ Loki-  
  
Thor’s orgasm rushed him, his hips lifting into Loki of their own accord as his muscles seized, eyes closing tightly as his cock twitched in pulses as best it could in the confines of his underwear.  
  
Loki was still grinding down against him, one hand at the back of his neck and the other in his hair, but as Thor’s pleasure wore off the friction of his jeans became unbearable against his over-sensitive cock. Loki made a sound like a growl when Thor held his hips tight to stop him.  
  
“Wait,” Thor murmured, a plea, taking only a moment to catch his breath before sliding both hands up Loki’s thighs. Even that was enough to elicit a groan from Loki, who helpfully shifted his hips back a little to allow Thor’s hand between them.  
  
The sound he made when Thor cupped him was so sweetly desperate it made Thor’s chest ache, and then he was rolling his hips again, focused, lips parted and panting.  
  
He palmed roughly at the juncture of Loki’s tight jeans, able to feel the shape of his cock but not the warmth of it, and watched as Loki’s eyes began to glaze over.  
  
“Hurry up,” he said when he meant to say something else - _come on, come for me, let me see you_. Loki pulled at his hair and he knew he deserved it.  
  
“Kiss me?” Loki said, and despite the fact that he was currently writhing on Thor’s lap it was definitely a question.  
  
Thor was all too happy to oblige.  
  
Softly he pulled Loki in, a brush of lips and then parting Loki’s mouth with his tongue again, kissing him properly now, thoroughly, like he hadn’t managed to do earlier in their rushed clash of mouths.  
  
Loki stilled, whined into Thor’s mouth, and then his thighs shuddered and squeezed around Thor’s as he came.  
  
Thor held him for a moment afterwards, kissed his slack mouth, and then like a rag doll Loki slid sideways off his lap to melt into the sofa beside him.  
  
“Okay?” Thor asked, wondering the same of himself.  
  
There was no going back from this now.  
  
Loki nodded, wiping at his damp forehead and eyes with his palm. He didn’t wipe his mouth, Thor was pleased to note.  
  
They were still surrounded by mess, liquid from the dropped tower of cups was now seeping into the carpet and a bowl of nut shells had fallen from the sofa.  
  
It could wait until morning, Thor decided, shifting uncomfortably in his damp underwear.  
  
Loki huffed in amusement, and when Thor looked over at him he found him smirking.  
  
“I can’t believe you just did that with your step-brother.”  
  
A low laugh tumbled out of Thor’s chest. “Actually…”  
  
-


	6. Be Still, Wild and Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between his parents and four year old brother Balder, Thor struggles to get some alone-time at the family cottage with his boyfriend Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is the gooiest, fluffiest, most non-angsty, uncomplicated toothache of a fic that I have ever written.

Nobody expected Balder.

Thor was thirteen and happily settled as an only child when suddenly he was sat down and told, sheepishly, that there was going to be an addition to the family.

He’d spent the entire nine months dreading being expected to ‘chip in’ and help with looking after the baby, and had begrudged his mum spending the entirety of his fourteenth birthday party battling morning sickness.

But then Balder had been born, with the tiniest toes and the softest hair that Thor had ever felt, and all animosity he’d planned to foster towards the little inconvenience had vanished into dust.

First teeth and first steps, potty training and the baby’s first full night sleep, Thor had been there through it all with the tight clench of pride in his chest.

Balder’s first garbled word had been ‘ _Dor_ ’, something that could’ve been mistaken for a simple noise if not for the fact that it had been coupled with ‘grabby hands’ in Thor’s direction.

It’s an unspoken fact that Balder’s arrival scuppered Odin’s retirement plans, that the holiday home brochures that sit next to Thor’s university brochures are all hypothetical now, but nobody would have it any other way.

At four years old he’s brimming with energy and curiosity, learning his own likes and dislikes, trying out an attitude that Odin swears he’s picked up from Thor.

Best of all, he absolutely adores Loki.

Thor’s biggest worry when he first decided to bring his boyfriend home hadn’t been Odin’s reaction; he’d dealt with disappointment and anger from his father on enough occasions to know how to handle it, but Balder? He’d never disappointed Balder.

Balder had been wriggly and distracted when Thor pulled him into his lap, wanting to get back to the toys he’d left sprawled on the kitchen tiles.

“You know how girls have boyfriends and boys have girlfriends?” Thor had said, carefully reading his brother’s response. Balder had shrugged, like he kind of knew what Thor was talking about. “Well, sometimes boys have boyfriends and girls have girlfriends, too.”

Balder had reached out to touch the soft beard that Thor was experimenting with.

Sucking in a deep breath, Thor had finally confessed, “I have a boyfriend, Balder.”

Tilting his head, eyes wide, Balder had remained silent for all of three seconds before yelling “Okay!” and slipping off Thor’s lap to race back into the kitchen.

Loki had arrived twenty minutes or so later, introducing himself nervously to Frigga and Odin - the latter looking at him with undeniable suspicion, at first - before dropping to Balder’s eye level to introduce himself.

Loki’s demeanour, often icy and sarcastic with his peers and occasionally even adults, had softened just enough to be friendly without ‘talking down’, a move which had proven incredibly popular with Balder.

Later, over lunch at the dining table, Balder had turned to Loki and told him, matter of factly, “Do you know how some girls have...um, how some boys...um...boyfriends? Well sometimes girls have friends too.”

Frigga had been the first to laugh, though Loki wasn’t far behind.

“It’s about time girls started to feel comfortable enough to be honest about having friends,” Loki had said, and his nod was enough to have Balder agreeing loudly in earnest.

For weeks afterwards Balder had taken to asking where Loki was whenever they sat down to eat, until eventually Frigga gave in and asked Thor if Loki might like to make ‘a thing’ of coming for dinner once a week.

Loki had surprised Thor by agreeing.

With the ‘sunny holiday home’ idea a thing of the past, their parents compromised and purchased a cottage in Wales instead, a ‘home away from home’ that was picturesque and quiet enough to feel like an escape.

“What if Loki comes?” Thor ponders out loud one morning, lifting his eyes a moment later to scope out the general feeling around the table.

Balder has lit up like a Christmas tree but Frigga’s brow is crinkled like she thinks it’s an unreasonable request.

“Oh, I don’t know, Thor,” she says, looking unsure. “We don’t have a spare bed for him.”

Thor shrugs, eyes flashing between both of his parents before he says, carefully, “...we don’t need a spare bed for him.”

They must know that Thor and Loki have had sex, that there have been numerous opportunities which they snapped up. Afternoons alone in the house, large house parties with swathes of empty bedrooms, that two-day trip they took to Leeds to visit the university.

They even had impossibly quiet sex after putting Balder to bed one night when Frigga and Odin had gone out for dinner with friends.

Perhaps the fact that they know is the problem.

Frigga lets out a quiet sigh, looking imploringly at Odin across the table.

But Odin only shrugs, says, “I don’t see why not.”

With a tut, Frigga lifts a spoonful of soup to her mouth. “Well tell him to bring warm clothes. It might snow.”

Odin chuckles. “It won’t snow.”

-

The car struggles up the path, wheels spinning to no avail and kicking white dust up around the windows.

“The sled in the shed!” Balder cries, practically bouncing in his seat between Thor and Loki where he’d insisted on sitting.

They’d found an old sled when they bought the place, a too-heavy old plastic thing that they’d never had opportunity to use.

“It might be broken,” Thor tells him over the unhappy whirring of the tires as they continue to slip in the snow. ”We’ll have a look at it.”

Frigga turns in her seat, her tone both sweet and authoritative. “Boys, could you get out and push?”

It’s not really a question. Thor releases his seatbelt, throwing Loki an apologetic glance over Balder’s blond head.

“Can I push??” Balder asks, gripping Loki’s sleeve.

Frigga tells him no, and instead he wriggles around in his seat to watch through the foggy back window as Thor and Loki huff and puff, feet digging into the deep fluff.

The ground beneath is frozen solid, hard to gain purchase, and Thor’s thighs and shoulder blades are soon burning from his fruitless efforts.

“Are you pushing?” Loki asks through gritted teeth.

Thor grunts around another attempt to shove the car free. “I’ll push you in a minute.”

The echo of Loki’s laugh is muted by the snow.

The car goes nowhere, and eventually they end up clambering through the knee-deep snow with their bags and Balder hefted up in the air, Thor and Loki still laughing.

-

The cottage is freezing when they get inside, so Odin immediately sets about lighting a fire while Thor and Loki carry anything else in from the car. The kitchen is what Frigga refers to as ‘a nice size’ which, as far as Thor can tell, means that she can have Balder in there with her while she makes tea or organises dinner without him getting under her feet.

The living room never struck Thor as small, for a cottage, but with Loki standing there with his weekend bag at his feet it seems it. His black jeans are sodden, the cold climbing up his legs as the moisture soaks into the denim.

“This is cosy,” he says when Thor steps up beside him. It doesn’t seem sarcastic.

Once the fire is casting an orange glow around the room Odin sinks back into his ratty old chair with a contented sigh, happily accepting the cup of tea that Frigga brings out for him. He nearly spills it on himself when Balder clambers into his lap.

“I’ll show you the bedroom,” Thor murmurs, giving Loki just enough time to sweep his bag up before he’s got him by the wrist and is pulling him towards the stairs. He calls behind them, “We’re just heading up to get changed.”

“I’m coming too!” Balder cries, but Frigga halts him before he can scramble from Odin’s knee.

-

They don’t even make it into the bedroom before Thor’s got Loki pressed up against the wall, cold hands slipping up underneath his coat and t-shirt until he hisses into Thor’s mouth.

“Thor,” he laughs softly, pushing Thor’s hands away, his weekend bag still clutched heavy at his side. “Your parents are ten feet away from us.”

On the verge of adopting a pout, Thor takes Loki by the wrist again; tugging him into the bedroom.

“Wrap up,” he says, digging through his own bag for his walking boots. “We’re going for a walk.”

-

“Take your brother,” Odin says when Thor announces their excursion.

“What? Aw no, dad.”

“Yes, Thor.”

Tilting his head back, Thor groans. Loki laughs at him.

“Why don’t you take him sledding on the hill?” Frigga suggests. “It’ll be fun.”

They hover by the door while Frigga collects gloves, numerous scarves, a bobble hat and a pair of earmuffs that won’t sit right over the hat no matter how hard she tries.

Zipping the huge bubble coat right up beneath Balder’s chin, she looks him over one last time. “You’re warm enough?”

“Yep.”

“Warm everywhere?”

When Balder nods his coat squeaks, and after a moment Frigga stands up and steps back. Without a second look at her Balder rushes to Thor and Loki, who each hold a hand out for him.

The snow around the old shed is almost taller than Balder, so he stands back with Loki while Thor wrestles the old door open and drags the plastic sled out. The metal ring which secures the rope is all rusted, but still looks solid enough, and so with a nod they head off.

“How far is it?” Balder asks after barely a minute, still clinging to Loki’s hand.

Thor is kicking the deeper snow out of Balder’s path.

“About half a mile,” he says, before realising that won’t mean much to his brother. “About five minutes.”

Balder huffs, copying Thor and kicking the snow.

“I have an idea,” Loki says.

For the rest of the walk Thor has Loki’s gloved hand in his, the half mile feeling twice as long in the deep snow, and all the while Balder sits in his sled and they take turns pulling him along.

Thor’s surprised to find the hill empty when they arrive, the snow pristine and untouched by other feet.

“You’re heavy for a four year old,” Loki pants halfway up the hill, his breath coming in white plumes.

“I’m big!” Balder calls, throwing snow up either side of him excitedly.

“Yeah,” Thor grumbles, relieving Loki of the duty, “though apparently not big enough to walk.”

They make it to the top in no time at all, Thor’s chest heaving when he eventually lets go of the rope.

The view is beautiful; a winter wonderland all around them, and Thor basks in it for a moment, entirely content to be here with his little brother and Loki by his side.

Loki started signing off important texts with ‘love you’ months ago but they’ve never said it out loud, and Thor feels the words heavy on his tongue.

Then Loki says, “Are you going to head back down to the bottom to catch him?”

The thought of trudging all the way down the hill he’s just dragged Balder up is enough to sour any desire to be affectionate right now.

“Why do I have to go?”

Loki‘s mouth twitches. “Because Balder wants to ride down with me, don’t you?”

Balder nods emphatically, entirely unaware that he’s been masterfully manipulated.

Thor turns narrowed eyes on Loki. “You did that on purpose.”

Loki grins.

-

Only an hour and a half later they’re trekking back through the snow, their gloves frozen stiff and Balder a dead weight asleep on Thor’s back.

Loki’s got the sled tucked up beneath his arm and the pinkest nose Thor has ever seen.

“We should get into the hot tub when we get back,” Thor says, imagining sinking into the heat with Loki, dragging him into his lap...

Loki scoffs. “With your parents around? I don’t think so.”

Another time, then. “We’ll have to come back on our own.”

Loki hums as if the thought pleases him, stepping into Thor’s space to plant a soft peck on his mouth.

His lips are ice cold, but the chaste kiss warms Thor deep in his core in a way that no layers of clothing ever could.

Just as Loki’s about to step back, Balder lifts his face from where it’s tucked into the warmth of Thor’s fleecy collar and mumbles sleepily, “Me too?”

With a soft smile Loki pushes up on his tiptoes, lifting the edge of Balder’s beanie hat to kiss his forehead.

Contented, Balder tucks his face away again and they set off back towards the cottage.

-

Frigga scoops Balder out of Thor’s arms the moment they get back, leaving Thor and Loki to thaw out in the privacy of their bedroom.

Loki tugs on the thick flannel pyjama bottoms he brought with him, since both his pairs of jeans are wet now, and a pair of thermal socks that Thor throws to him from his own bag.

Thor drags fresh jeans on and a soft, patterned jumper he’d never wear at home. Loki pokes the wool and lets out an amused little huff.

“Something funny?” Thor drags him in, kissing his neck.

Loki tilts his head back, fingers winding into the hair at Thor’s nape, and says nothing. Through the soft material of his pyjamas his growing erection is apparent, and Thor presses into it.

“Boys!” Frigga calls up. “Are you hungry?”

Lips pausing against Loki’s throat, Thor sighs.

“Yeah. We’ll be right down.”

-

Balder’s like a pyjama-clad live wire at the table, wide awake again and so busy exaggerating tales of his adventures in the snow that Frigga has to keep reminding him to eat.

“I was faster than all the birds in the sky,” he tells Frigga as she spears another piece of food for him, looking to Loki for apparent confirmation. “Wasn’t I faster?”

Loki nods indulgently, “Oh definitely.”

Thor doesn’t remember any birds, but he remembers Balder whizzing down the hill with his hands over his eyes, safe in the protective clutch of Loki’s arms, and when they’d skidded to a stop at the bottom and Thor had checked whether or not Balder was too scared, his little brother had simply grabbed Loki by the hand and cried “ _Again_!” leaving Thor to carry the sled back up the hill behind them with a resigned sigh.

They all move to the living room after dinner, talking amongst themselves while Frigga embroiders whatever she’s working on.

Before long Balder is asleep again, lying on the hump of Odin’s rounded belly as it rises and falls.

“It’s like he has an off switch,” Loki comments, fond and amazed at Balder’s ability to go from wide awake to asleep in a matter of seconds.

Odin grunts quietly, murmuring, “If only.”

-

They send Thor out into the cold garden for more wood once the fire burns down, and Loki tugs on his still-damp shoes and follows.

The wood is covered by an awning but still most of it is wet-through, and they have to root around to find logs that are dry enough to burn.

Before Thor quite has an armful, Loki pauses his gathering and steps into his space, tilting forwards to kiss Thor despite the collection of logs between them.

“Hold on,” Thor grunts, letting the logs drop with a low thud onto the stone step that leads to the back door.

It’s freezing cold, the chill seeping in to the bone, but still they stay outside for much longer than is wise.

Frigga and Odin are pointedly not looking at them once they get back inside, and Thor’s glad of it once he sees the distinctly pink hue of Loki’s well-kissed lips.

-

Balder makes a half-hearted series of complaints when Thor lifts him off Odin’s tummy to carry him to bed, whining under his breath about not being tired even as he pouts and rubs his sleepy eyes.

Loki follows them up, probably to avoid being left alone with Thor’s parents, and stands in the doorway of the bathroom while Thor tries to coerce Balder into brushing his teeth.

“I don’t want to.” His chin wobbles as he stands on the little stool in front of the sink, watching as Thor squeezes a pea-sized blob of toothpaste onto his little green brush, but once Thor hands it over Balder does as he’s told.

Once he’s tucked into his bed he demands that both Thor and Loki tell him goodnight, pointing to his forehead so that they both know to give him a kiss. “Night night, Thor,” he says as they turn out the light, already drifting off. “Night night, Loki.”

-

Odin and Frigga head upstairs themselves shortly after nine, leaving Loki and Thor in the quiet of the living room.

As soon as the coast is clear Loki presses his now-bare feet into Thor’s lap. They’re cold, probably have been ever since he was forced to leave the thermal socks inside his wet shoes, and so Thor closes his hands around Loki’s toes.

“I love it here,” Loki tells him quietly, smiling at the attention Thor is paying his cold feet. “With your family.”

They don’t talk about Loki’s family much, but Thor knows it’s not a happy arrangement. He runs his hand up to give Loki’s ankle a gentle squeeze.

“They love having you around,” he says, only then really realising how much it means to him that Loki is so welcome in his family.

Loki sighs happily, sinking back into the cushions.

“I think Balder likes me more than he likes you,” he says, teasing.

Thor takes the bait, throwing Loki’s feet off and crawling over him. “You take that back.”

Pressing his lips together to dampen his laughter, Loki clamps his knees around Thor’s hips. It’s so inherently sexual that Thor’s breath catches in his throat, heat pooling low in his stomach.

“It’s hardly my fault,” Loki murmurs, amused and clearly aware of the effect he’s having.

Thor growls, using his hands to pin Loki down by the wrists, hair falling down around them both. Loki half heartedly fights the hold, giving it no real effort. “Why do you have to have Balder too? Aren’t I enough?”

Loki cackles so loudly at that that Thor has to slam a hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” Thor laughs, flashing a quick look to the top of the stairs to make sure they haven’t disturbed anyone.

Loki’s shaking with his efforts to quieten down, so Thor slips his palm away in favour of kissing him instead, swallowing Loki’s moan and letting his weight drop as arms and legs wind tightly around him to hold him close.

In company Loki tends to keep a polite distance, saying he’d rather die than commit the cardinal sin of PDA, but he always does this when they’re alone; clings to Thor like it would physically hurt him to let go. On another moan he parts his lips for Thor’s tongue, squeezing his thighs and lifting his hips until Thor pulls back on a low groan just to look at him.

“Of course you’re enough,” Loki says, sincere, letting his fingernails scratch lightly through Thor’s beard. “More than enough.”

Thor nods, because he knew that really, and presses their foreheads together.

“Shall we go to bed?” he whispers.

Loki’s eyes shift to the stairs. “...what if your parents hear us?”

For somebody who doesn’t care for the opinions of others, Loki takes great care to ensure he stays firmly in Odin and Frigga’s good graces.

Thor kisses him again, gentle and reassuring. “We’ll be quiet.”

-

They’re careful on the creaky stairs, careful to close their bedroom door gently, slow and quiet to undress. Thor sits on the bed and pulls Loki to stand between his legs, hands skimming the plains of Loki’s back.

They don’t speak.

With one knee thrown up by Thor’s hip, Loki mouths at Thor’s shoulder while he’s efficiently opened up, rocking back against Thor’s thick fingers.

“You wanna get up here?” Thor whispers, having long imagined Loki riding him, chasing his own orgasm with short, tight little movements and sharp hiccups of breath.

Loki shakes his head. “Not sure I can be quiet like that. Next time.”

And then he’s crawling up towards the pillows, lying back and beckoning Thor to settle between his legs.

Thor doesn’t need asking twice.

Every other time they’ve utilised foreplay, exploring sex and exploring each other, learning together, but they don’t necessarily have the luxury of time here.

“Sure you’re ready?” Thor murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Loki’s waiting mouth, pretty sure he didn’t prep him enough.

But Loki tilts his pelvis up in offering, his cock bobbing up to brush the soft warmth of Thor’s lower belly. It’s like he’s been waiting for this all day. Perhaps he has.

They gasp together as Thor enters him, that first tight push still a new sensation for both of them, and then Loki is tilting his chin up to be kissed. Even the kiss pulls at something deep in Thor, amps up his arousal, having Loki’s body and his mouth too, having the pressure of pale thighs squeezing at his hips.

They don’t break the kiss when he starts to move but Loki’s soft moan slips free between lips and tongues, and Thor pulls back to press his mouth by Loki’s ear.

“Shh,” he whispers between kisses.

Loki laughs a little. “You shush.”

Thor’s response is a sharp jab of his hips, just so Loki doesn’t think he’s had the last word.

It’s an effort to keep the noise to a minimum, to quiet their moans and keep the bed from creaking as they move, but they take great care with it even as the buzz of arousal and friction sweeps over them more fully, climbing and climbing.

“Feels good?” Thor whispers, pulling back to check Loki’s face, pleased to find him looking appropriately dazed and biting at his own bottom lip to keep himself quiet.

He’s always been the best thing Thor has ever seen, since the moment they met, but like this he’s something else. Intoxicatingly beautiful, effortlessly arousing, and every inch of him Thor’s.

Needing to be closer, deeper still, Thor hooks his arm beneath the crook of Loki’s right knee to lift it, making more room for himself, so that with the next thrust the jut of his pelvis presses right up against the meat of Loki’s buttock where it meets thigh.

Loki winds his fingers in the hair at Thor’s nape, whispering his name like a metronome as Thor sets a rhythm, tucking himself deep inside Loki’s heat over and over until Loki is scrambling for a hold on him.

With one leg wrapped tight around his waist and one arm clutched around his neck, Loki isn’t allowing him much room to move, so with shallow, desperate thrusts he carries them both towards the edge.

“I love you,” Thor gasps, so so close. “Loki, I really-”

The rest is muffled by Loki’s lips, sharing shuddered breaths until they come, Thor first and Loki not long after with the help of Thor’s fist around his cock.

-

The afterglow gives way very quickly to anxiety that they’ve been too loud, and they lie together frozen until eventually Loki lets out a little laugh.

Once they gather the courage they head to the bathroom to wash, and after brushing their teeth they slip back into their pyjama bottoms, for appearances sake.

In bed Loki presses himself up against Thor’s back and lets his teeth lightly graze Thor’s shoulder blade.

“You know it’s really poor form to say it for the first time during sex,” he says, lips brushing Thor’s skin. “Good job I already knew.”

Thor hums. “I notice you didn’t say it back,”

Loki’s arms are wrapped around Thor’s waist, his cheek pressed to Thor’s back, and Thor feels him smile.

“Good job you already know.”

 


End file.
